Love without Sentiment

He said only two words, halted at the entrance to the kitchen and spoke them: "Oh, Verna." No exclamation point, just the heavy finality of pronouncing a verdict.

The sound from Darlene began as a scream, but was cut off, abruptly, as her hand flew to her lips. It ended as a squeak of pure fright, of panic. She had whirled to see Verna and her hands flew up—but to cover what? Then, she took a quick step toward the hall, but Verna snapped, "No!"

It was a command. Darlene stopped and turned to her. After a moment, she said, her voice very small, "All right."

Daniel came over and put his arm around Darlene's shoulders and they stood there naked, facing Verna. Daniel said, "You came home. I'm very, very sorry that it happened, this way, Verna."

After a moment, he asked, "You knew, didn't you?"

"Of course."

Daniel turned to Darlene; she had huddled her body against his. Now, as though they had made a choice, at last, her hands cupped her high round breasts. "You knew, too? You knew that this wasn't a secret from Verna?"

Darlene nodded. She kept nodding slowly, almost imperceptibly, as though greeting a slow parade of new thoughts.

"Darlene, put your hands down," said Verna. "I like to see your breasts, they're beautiful."

"I think I should get dressed."

"No," said Verna. "Not this time."

"Verna, what do you want?" asked Daniel. "I don't know if you came home deliberately at this hour. I'm not even sure why. But tell me..." he paused. "Tell us what you want?"

"It's all right, Daniel," said Darlene quickly.

"Yes, it is all right," said Daniel. "What else can it be? I would like to understand, that's all."

"I just want the pretending to be over--the game."

"The game you started."

"Did I?"

"Hiring Darlene to come here was a coincidence? A week or so after I stopped to watch her at the tennis court?"

"After you stopped to watch her." Verna let a few moment of silence gather, then added: "After that, it wasn't a coincidence."

He looked at her, nodding. "I see what you mean, obviously. Where did it all actually begin? That's what you mean."

When she did not speak, he said, "You know, I'm feeling self-conscious, standing here naked. You still haven't said what you want, but does it exclude my getting dressed?"

"Do you agree? About ending the pretense, the game? Whoever started it?"

"Yes, I do. It seems that we have ended it, haven't we?"

"We've made a start." She glanced up at the clock on the wall. "Just sit down, Daniel."

He shrugged. "All right. Darlene might want to dress..."

Verna said, "No. Darlene, will you make us lunch, now?"

The girl turned to the refrigerator and, as she opened the door, only said: "First the iced tea, I guess."

"I can help you..."

"Oh no."

Verna watched as Darlene moved around the kitchen. She knew that Daniel was watching not Darlene, but her, yet Verna found the girl's utter, ripe womanhood—womanhood at its peak, its moment of biological triumph—mesmerizing. Suddenly, she rose and walked over to stand behind Darlene. Darlene turned, glancing up, and smiled, but Verna saw that the pale, lovely face flared to pink. And when she gently cupped her hands over the exquisitely perfect buttocks, just holding them, experiencing their electric femininity, Darlene did not start. She glanced again, quickly, at Verna, the blush deepening. Then she turned back to the counter.

When Verna turned back to the table, Daniel was watching her. His face rarely revealed any definite emotion, any surge of feeling, and it did not now. When Verna said, "She is so, so beautiful," Daniel only gazed at her, a faint frown on his face.

And then there was an abrupt, loud knock at their front door.

Verna stepped in front of Daniel. When he started to rise, she put her hands on his shoulders. "No," she said, "this is part of it."

She turned. Darlene was looking at her, waiting. Verna said: "It is no one who hasn't seen you."

"Oh," was all Darlene said, and again her hands were busy at the counter.

"Come in!" Verna called loudly, and, after a moment, "Come!'

Daniel tried to rise. When Verna would not move, he said, "This has gone far enough, Verna. I don't know..."

"Yes, it has," she said.

By then, Carl was walking into the kitchen. He stopped when he saw them, and his glance went from Darlene to Verna to Daniel. Darlene turned, a half-smile on her face. She said, "Hi, Carl."

"Who is this?" demanded Daniel. He stood up, his hand on Verna's shoulder, pushing her aside. "Who are you?"

"This was Darlene's lover," said Verna quietly. This is where I go evenings."

"Oh, for Christ's sake!" said Daniel. "Let me dress, and then I'll deal with this."

Carl had stepped to the table. Already, he had slipped the photographs out of the envelope. He tossed them on the table. He had not spoken since he entered.

Daniel glanced down, half-reaching for them. He said, "What is this..."

The photograph on the top might have been taken in the airport lounge...or a hotel lobby... But what it captured was unmistakable. Daniel was bent over, kissing Darlene on the lips. Her head was thrown back, her eyes closed. And Daniel's hand had strayed down to close over one thrusting breast. There could be no possible mistake about either Daniel or Darlene.

Daniel stared down for many seconds, as though seeing the future unfold on a screen. He had braced himself, now, on the table, his arm straight. When he looked up, at last, he looked at Verna. And all he said was: "So." It was very like Daniel—to examine the evidence, his mind racing to the conclusions, words unnecessary.

Verna said, "It's why I had to go, nights."

Other men would have spoken accusingly of 'blackmail,' demanding that the obvious words be spoken, admitted, but that was not Daniel's way. He said, "I'm going to get dressed."

"Just sit down," said Carl. It was the first time he had spoken.

"If I put on my pants, you'll destroy my career, is that it? You want to see my dick? Here, here's my dick!" and he turned to face Carl. "Now can I put on my pants?"

"Sit down."

Daniel looked at Verna and said, "I guess you've done a lot for our cause, haven't you? I suppose I can eat lunch naked." And he slowly eased down into the chair.

Carl reached down to the table, and flipped over the top photograph, then the next. Daniel had his head turned, watching as though with casual interest; it was merely repetition, confirmation. Occasionally, he nodded. Any one of the photographs, in the hands of the history department chairman, or the dean of students, or the student newspaper and he would be on 'unpaid leave' the same day.

He looked up at Carl. "You are a student, here?"

"Yes, sir. I'm a first-year graduate student."

Daniel nodded. "And you were Darlene's boyfriend, I gather?"

"Yes sir. Until Dr. Noyes sort of...suborned her..."

Darlene turned quickly. "Don't say that. Don't say I didn't want to do it."

Carl nodded. He said, "Verna, you and Darlene should be making lunch together. Do you know what I mean?"

"Yes," said Verna quietly, and she shrugged off the light baize business jacket, tossed it over a chair, and her fingers went to the buttons of her blouse. She undressed efficiently, unemotionally, pausing only a moment to fold a garment before she laid it over a chair.

When she was naked, she went to stand beside Darlene. Darlene turned to her, her smile was tentative, shy. She said, "I've never seen you... You're so lovely." After a moment, she added, "So different, aren't you?" She looked down over Verna's body. "You're breasts are so full. So much...I don't know, so much a woman..."

Verna smiled. "We both are women; the difference is the age. Part of the difference, anyway." Then, she said: "Let's make lunch."

They had sat around the table, silent for the most part. Verna observed, again, that Daniel had an amazing capacity for skipping all the steps that others must take. He arrived at a conclusion and began there. Except, of course, she thought sadly, when it had come to their marriage, his desires and fantasies, and Verna. There, he never had seemed able to know what he desired. Never seemed able to know what to do about it. And so it had all happened to him.

Verna's contribution to the lunch was to open two bottles of wine from the small collection that lined the wall beside the stairs to the basement. She smiled to herself. No one at the table except Daniel was aware of the irreplaceable wines they were drinking. Well, it was a special occasion, after all...

As they ate in silence, Verna felt, as almost a physical sensation, the examination of her body-- the gaze of Daniel, Carl, and, yes, Darlene. She felt almost as though she should take her heavy, full-nippled breasts in her hands and hold them up, saying: "See? Have a good look..." She did not, of course, but she felt a pleasurable excitement course through her, a warming channel of sensuality.

It excited her that Daniel sat naked because he had no choice, now, and that she belonged to both men—to Carl beside her, to Daniel across the table. Beside Daniel, Darlene sat--demure, sipping her wine. Verna noticed that Daniel did not turn to Darlene, to the sweet face, the delicate bare shoulders, but Darlene sat patiently, awaiting direction from the adults, the 'grown-ups.' Verna almost laughed aloud, thinking of that—except that it was not funny, of course, but appalling.

"So what is our position, Mr. Bauman?" Daniel asked. "We are all naked, here, awaiting your pleasure. What must we do? And for how long will we be taking our orders from you?" He added, "I am merely asking for clarification."

It was strange to see them, Verna thought. There was Daniel's refined face, a face handsome in its way, the way of a New England lineage, and there was Carl's face of a tough cowboy, the long, straight lines and extravagant mustache. Carl said: "You don't have to do anything, Prof. Noyes. I didn't ask for any of this. You have conceived a passion for Darlene--and I a passion for your wife..."

He turned to Verna. With his gaze on her, her body began to respond. Carl said, "I am going to ask for one more thing. And that will be the end of our meeting—as far as I am concerned, at least."

Verna turned to him, frowning. She felt the first stirrings of fear, an uncertainty that threatened to become cold dread. But Carl smiled at her, and said: "I want Verna to show us, now—here--what she wants. Not tell us, show us."

Verna wondered, for a moment, if she should walk to the living room where at least there was a rug. But no, Carl had said, "here."

She rose and gave him the briefest smile, a shy smile. Then, she turned her body as gracefully as a cat, her knees bending beneath her, and let herself fall back on the bare wood of the kitchen floor. It was hard beneath her shoulders, but not cold. For a moment, she looked up at Carl. He had risen from his chair, his fingers slowly, thoughtfully, unbuckling his belt.

For a few moments, too, her eyes met Daniel's, but, again, there was no definite expression. Darlene, she saw, kept her gaze lowered; her small hands were on the table, one atop the other.

Then, very slowly, Verna lifted her legs, parting them, so that her knees came up to her breasts, where her hands took them, drawing them back and apart, so that she was as open down there, as available, as the human female can make herself.

In that way, she waited until Carl was ready to take her.